Scoundrel's Folly
by shortcircuitify
Summary: "Hair disheveled, bags under her eyes, she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks, and he'd be surprised if she actually had. But he could also see naked hope written in her features, in the way her eyes watched him as she approached, and he hadn't seen that in a good-long time." MacCreadyxSS
1. Chapter 1

He didn't really pay attention to her when she stumbled into The Third Rail, but his eyes shot in her direction when he heard Whitechapel Charlie raise his voice at her, yelling at her that no, this wasn't a hotel, and if she wasn't looking for a drink she should get out as quickly as possible.

She didn't leave, though. He flicked his eyes from Winlock and Barnes for just a minute to see that she was standing in the doorway of the room he was sitting in, eyes darting between him and the Gunners that were currently giving him a harder time than he would have _preferred,_ after having already left their company.

Despite the threats being thrown his way, MacCready didn't deter. No way would he be returning to the Gunners – they were ruthless, more than even he could handle, and they would have to kill him before that would happen.

Now that he thought about it, they probably would.

Finally, he got Winlock and his girlfriend to leave him alone, pushing past the girl standing in the doorway. If they wanted caps, fine. Maybe he could use his charm to get a couple hundred caps out of this girl, pay back the Gunners, and then send whatever was left to Duncan.

She approached him meekly, as if afraid of him. He finally got a good look at her, and if he was being honest, she looked _awful._ She had a slight limp in her left leg while she walked, her face scrunched up in pain every time she put weight on it, but she tried to hide it nonetheless. Hair disheveled, bags under her eyes, she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks, and he'd be surprised if she actually had. But he could also see naked hope written in her features, in the way her eyes watched him as she approached, and he hadn't seen that in a good-long time.

Maybe she was a Vaulter. They were always the worst off when entering the Wasteland, the Commonwealth – anywhere above ground, really.

It didn't matter, though. The sleepless ones were always the easiest to get a couple more caps out of, anyway. Top that off with a history in a Vault, and he would be walking away with his pockets brimming from this deal.

As soon as she stood in front of him, he spoke, "Well? You looking for a merc? Then I'm the one for you, and from the looks of _you_ , you need me."

She looked up to him and stared for a moment, her eyes searching his, and he frowned when she didn't respond.

"Actually I'm looking for a hotel," her voice was soft, but he could hear the sassy tone hiding behind her weariness, "But you're right. I could use someone watching my back. What's your price?"

"Two hundred fifty caps," He usually went for one-fifty, but she didn't need to know that, she really _did_ look like she could use some help, if the way the hand holding her gun was shaking said anything.

She dug into her pocket with her free hand, and came back with a handful of caps. After counting for a moment, feet fidgeting in place, she looked back up to his face, "Two hundred?" There was that hope again, shining in her eyes, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

He sighed. It wasn't like he was planning on getting other jobs any time soon, and it was still more than he would usually make. "Fine," he grumbled, and she handed the money over to him without another word.

"Perfect," she sighed in relief, "Okay, well – I'm really tired, so we'll leave in the morning?" It was more of a question, he noticed, "And… I'll come get you in the morning, then?"

His eyebrows raised in disbelief, "Really? You pay me, then you're gonna just leave me here? What if I run off before you come back in the morning?" First rule of the Wasteland, right there. She really was fresh.

She stared at him incredulously, "You wouldn't do that… would you?" She straightened her back, and although he saw she was still nervous, she tried standing her ground, "It's not like you have anywhere else to be if you took my deal for less than you're offering, so of course you'll be here in the morning."

He shrugged, "I wouldn't count on it, but throw in ten caps for a bed and a pack of cigs, and I'll even direct you to the nearest hotel."

He could see her relax instantly, and she flashed a hesitant smile his way, "Alright, then…?"

"MacCready."

"…Artemis."

"Alright, I'll lead the way."

 **A/N:** _Sorry if I got some of the dialogue wrong, but I thought some original dialogue would be interesting as well!_


	2. Chapter 2

It was noon, and MacCready was starting to get restless. He wouldn't deny that sleeping in a nice hotel bed was really, well, _nice_ for a change, but his trigger finger was getting twitchy, and he wasn't going to earn any more caps with his new companion by sitting around all day.

He left his room, tired of waiting for his new boss to come get him herself, and approached her door, ready to give her a lashing for wasting so much time of a perfectly good day.

He stopped his fist from pounding on her door when he heard movement from inside. Sounded like a holotape was playing, male voice, but he couldn't make out any of his words, and softly, muffled sobs and cries beneath that.

He waited a moment, not really wanting to invade her privacy by listening in, but not certain what to do with himself otherwise. Knock on her door and comfort her? No, he didn't want to do that, and it wasn't like she had paid for a shoulder to cry on.

He didn't have time to ponder on what to do though, because he heard the holotape stop suddenly, some shuffling from inside, and then there she was in front of him.

She started, her eyes wide, red-rimmed and lined with tears.

So yes, definitely crying.

Her cheeks were flushed, but she quickly recovered, blinking up at him before clearing her throat, "Sorry to keep you waiting, let's go." She ducked her head down so he couldn't see her face and began limping slightly down the hallway, before turning back to see him still standing in front her door, not having moved an inch, "Oh, right. We're going to Diamond City," Another pause, "Well?"

MacCready shrugged, "Nothing. Let's go, boss."

If she wasn't going to mention anything, he wasn't going to either. That was the least he could do for her, he supposed.

 **-oooooo-**

"So what's your story, you a Vaulter? Rich kid?"

They had been travelling half the day, spending their time in comfortable silence except for the few moments when they came across some Raiders or super mutants. And boy, was it good that the girl brought him along – she could barely shoot to save her life, and he was surprised she made it to Goodneighbor without being blown to bits.

After their last scuffle, looting a couple of Raiders of their ammo and caps, he finally decided to let his curiosity take over and ask her a little about herself – purely so he could do his job better, obviously. The more he knew, the better he could equip himself to make sure they both stayed alive.

She hummed softly, "A Vaulter, yeah."

"Recently out?"

"Mhm."

He nodded, continuing down the alley they were travelling through. At the sound of her voice, he turned to face her, surprised to hear her elaborate further. She kept facing forwards, towards their destination, but he kept his eyes on her, "I… was frozen for two hundred years, so sorry that I'm a little rusty at well – _everything_ , really," she chuckled solemnly, "It's been a month, so I'm still getting used to it, I guess."

He grunted in acknowledgement, not really sure of what else to say, but understanding nonetheless. He had heard about enough weird shit happening in the Commonwealth and beyond that a cryo was nothing new. After a moment of silence, he decided to speak too, "Don't worry, I'll help you along, show you the basics. Make sure you get your money's worth."

She turned to him and showed him that hesitant smile again, "Thanks. What about you, what's your story?"

He considered for a moment staying silent, not sharing with her. But she was looking at him so intently, so hopefully, he really couldn't deny her a little bit of information. He sighed, grumbled a moment, before speaking, "I was with the Gunners for a bit, for the caps, before I realized they were a bunch of sick a-" he cut himself short, clearing his throat, "Jerks. They were jerks. So I left. Now I'm a gun for hire. Not much else to say."

She smiled at him again, "Okay. I'm sure there's more to you than that. Everyone has a story." She shrugged nonchalantly.

He eyed her closely, "You're not pissed I worked with the Gunners? People are usually thrilled by that, or disgusted."

She chuckled lightly, "I don't even know who the Gunners are!"

"Oh right, Vaulter and all."

She hummed in response, picking up the pace a bit and walking in front of him.

"You're not worried about who the Gunners _are_?"

She looked back at him, and something had changed in her eyes. They were sad, maybe, he couldn't tell, "Maybe I will be, if we ever run into them. But… that's all in your past now. And the past is the past, right?"

She turned back before he could answer. He followed her without another word, watching her hair sway in the afternoon breeze.

 **A/N:** _Thank you for all the reviews, favs, and follows! :) I really like this chapter, I hope you do too._


	3. Chapter 3

There must have been something about her eyes, he decided. They were a mix between cold steel and thunderclouds before a warm summer rain. They would bring you in, make you stare a moment, and then you were out a couple hundred caps. Or, they would turn cold and merciless while she killed you off, not looking back as you touched the ground.

But MacCready knew that after all that cold indifference she would find a quiet corner in whatever building they found themselves in and huddle in on herself, unhearing and eyes watering.

But man, could those eyes earn a _lot_ of caps.

When she limped into Diamond City, MacCready hot on her heels, he watched as she worked her magic with the resident doctor.

"I'm injured, I need some help," She whimpered, her left leg twitching with pain from her prolonged limp.

"Fine, forty caps and I'll fix you up," He spoke, already tired of her presence.

"Thirty caps, please?" She begged, turning her eyes up to him, but he wasn't buying it. She huffed, before whispering something to him so MacCready couldn't hear.

The doctor turned to her, nodding in what MacCready assumed was understanding, and sat her down while he prepared her chems.

MacCready sat down in the seat opposite her own, and spoke softly, "You sure have a way with people, you know? First me, now the doctor, you sure have the gift of persuasion," he praised, but she just fidgeted in her seat in response.

She turned to him, uncertain, "I just… I _need_ the caps, and others are always stingy here in the City, so pushing them for a little extra doesn't hurt anyone." She explained, ashamed, as if what she did was the worst thing in the world, her deepest regrets being swindling rich jerks out of a couple extra caps.

He chuckled lightly, "Everyone here's looking out for themselves, and you're doing the same, can't blame you for that. Especially if it gets you a couple extra caps. Wish I was that smooth," he added, as an afterthought.

She still didn't seem convinced, "If it helps you any, I've killed for a drink before… Many times." He threw his arms up and then put them behind his head to rest against them, nonchalant as could be.

She stared at him, "Seriously?"

He nodded.

She smiled, "…Remind me to get you a drink next time you're pissed off."

He grinned, large and toothy, "Don't worry, you'll get the reminder up front and personal," He leaned forward to look her clearly in the eyes, "So no more moping about mooching cheap losers out of some caps, right?" She nodded eagerly, "Good. Can't wait to see you in action."

She looked away from him, to the doctor approaching with a very large syringe. She cringed at the sight, but refrained from squirming in her seat too much.

"Your wish might be granted sooner than you think."

 **-oooooo-**

"Mm, haven't been to the 'Green Jewel' in quite some time, you know. If the Gunner's found out I was back here and looking for work, they would have a field day."

"Good thing you're not looking for work," Artemis answered absentmindedly, sorting through a pile of caps that she had plopped onto the table they were sitting at, counting quietly to herself as she stacked piles of the currency in front of her eyes.

MacCready watched her, taking a drag of his cigarette as he relaxed back into the lawn chair he was occupying. They were outside the Colonial Taphouse, passing the time waiting for someone, according to the boss. And so MacCready waited, taking in the view before him.

Diamond City was beautiful, in its own quirky and post-apocalyptic way, but there was always something that drove him away from it. He wasn't sure if it was the Gunners, his own need to wander, or something else that just bugged him about the place. Something unsettling in his stomach that made him want to get in and get out, on most days that he was here.

But for the moment, he simply took in the view of depilated wood and warped steel.

The British voice of the robot butler chimed behind them, and Artemis quickly rounded up her collected caps before plopping them into her jacket pocket, hidden away from sight. MacCready watched as a man, sunglasses and business suit – an _actual, clean_ business suit – all in place came to sit across from him and his companion.

Her fingers twitched where they were placed on her knees, out of sight of the obviously rich guy, and he was tempted to grab one and hold it in his own, if only for her to stop fidgeting so much. Or perhaps to calm her obviously suddenly frazzled nerves.

"Artemis." MacCready just assumed he was invisible in this exchange. Eh, he took another whiff of his cigarette and sat back, making sure the man before him didn't do anything stupid. He already had a bad vibe about him.

"Malcolm," She replied, voice betraying none of the nervousness MacCready could feel coming off of her in waves. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out what looked like a photo, and handed it to the man called Malcolm, face down.

He picked it up, looked at it a moment, before turning his attention back to the woman in front of him, "Looks like you did it," He pulled out a coin purse from his suit jacket, throwing it on the table, "Four hundred caps. And a thank you for avenging my son," he added.

Before he could stand up fully, Artemis threw her hands up, "Wait, please – a moment." Malcolm sat back down, obviously already annoyed. "Look, I know our deal was four hundred caps-"

"It _was._ So what is this all about?"

She quickly looked to MacCready before looking back at Malcolm, leaning closer and whispering, "Look – I didn't just kill any Raider to avenge your son. I killed _Marowski_ , one of the biggest drug dealers in the whole Commonwealth." MacCready started at that, looking at the girl wide eyed and with a whole new perspective, "So I think me and my associate earned a bit more than four hundred."

So, not as clumsy with a gun as he thought.

Malcolm sighed, eyeing them both up before pulling out another smaller bag of caps and throwing it onto the table next to the one he already gave up, "Fine, you're right. Six hundred, but that's _it._ And after this meeting, you forget my name."

"Who are you again?" She asked cheekily before Malcolm made his way up to one of the 'fancier' apartments of the city.

When MacCready turned back to Artemis, her eyes were already on him, and there was that look again. Apprehension, uncertainty, and a little bit of guilt. He already knew he hated that look, and it made him a little irritable now.

"So, not as innocent as you look. Didn't think to mention to me you killed _Marowski_?" he asked, but she seemed to take it the wrong way, her body stiffening at his words and her eyes closing up to that cold, hard steel he saw when she killed off crazy Raiders.

"It's not like I'm proud of it!" voice raised, anxiety taking over, "I don't enjoy killing people! B-but I needed the caps. I thought you said yourself, you killed for a drink. I just – I didn't tell you cause…" She stopped herself, trying to get her breathing back to normal before continuing, _trying_ to explain why she would do it, but MacCready beat her to it.

"You're really stupid," She turned to him, shocked and a little angry, and MacCready had to admit, anything looked better on her than that mopey look she had been wearing since getting to this City. The Green Jewel was cursed, must've been. "You're stupid if you think I would judge you for killing. They're a lot of people out there with worse track records than you, let me tell you. I, being one of them. So shut up with your moping. You killed god-damn _Marowski!_ And got six hundred caps! I know you're saving, but let's celebrate a little. From the way you're frazzled, looks like you need it." His breathing was hard from his own rant, but he felt satisfied when he saw her shoulders slump, her eyes relax, no longer frightened like a wild animal.

"Thanks… Doesn't mean I'm proud of it, it was… _horrible_. Even if Marowski isn't the best guy on the block, I never want to do that again. I just – I needed the caps," She repeated, almost to herself.

He took another drag from cigarette, throwing the butt into the metal city below, "Understood. You have some humanity left in you, we'll see if it'll kill you or save our butts one day. Now c'mon, we're getting drinks and I don't care it's noon. You're telling me the rest of this story about how you killed Marowski." She fidgeted again, and he read her like a book, "…There's more to this story than just Marowski, isn't there?" He deadpanned. She nodded hesitantly, "Well, that just means more whiskey for both of us. Or whatever the hell they're serving down at the inn nowadays." He stood up from his seat, starting on the familiar root to Dugout Inn.

He was stopped by a warm hand on his arm, and turned back to see Artemis standing behind him, blushed and eyes wide, the cloudy storm back in them that he liked so much. She tugged on his hand until he had it facing palm up, and then placed three hundred caps into it. Half of her earnings.

He was about to refuse, but she stopped him with her soft words, "Thanks. I know you probably need caps too, and I promise to not be so soft anymore."

He turned to look at her eyes again, "Hey, don't change who you are out here. You have a fresh perspective, something special. Don't let people like me turn you into a killing machine. Just – remember what I told you about the caps, though. Caps are a wanderer's best friend."

She smiled, but said nothing more, continuing down to the bustling marketplace of Diamond City.

"Hey. Don't change, alright?" He asked again, as sincere as she ever heard him to be.

She nodded, not turning around, but he wasn't convinced, and he didn't think she really was either.

 **A/N:** _Not sure how this one turned out. Please let me know what you think, and how you think the story is coming along!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Vadim! Nice to see you buddy, how are things going?" MacCready swaggered into the Dugout Inn, propping himself up against the bar as Vadim made his way over to greet him. If MacCready was being honest, he kind of missed the big old jerk, and would be even happier at their reunion if he had some of his famous vodka stashed away for the drinking.

Artemis was still out in the marketplace, trading some guns for stimpaks probably, and he had promised to get her one of the weakest drinks they had. He decided to break that promise as soon as he walked through the bar's familiar entrance.

"MacCready! Long-time no see! What're you in the city for? Strolling through?" Vadim laughed and shook MacCready's outstretched hand firmly, and MacCready chuckled too. No way would he ever stroll through this City without a good reason or enough caps in his pocket.

"Nope. Here on business, got myself a client to watch out for."

Vadim started wiping the counter down with an old rag saturated with dingy water, "That's good to hear. How is life, MacCready? Lucy doing okay?"

He tensed at that name, and tried to grab the nearest bottle that contained alcohol. He almost swore when he saw the bar was completely clear of any, "Uh, she didn't make it, Vadim," he part groaned and part whispered.

Vadim turned back to him, pity and sorrow written in the lines of his face, and MacCready hated it, but he couldn't help the tightness he felt in his chest at the thought of Lucy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize," Vadim replied, before his eyes flicked to somewhere behind MacCready's shoulder. He turned and found himself staring into a pair of molten steel, and he tensed for a moment, hoping she didn't hear what he and Vadim were discussing.

Their relationship was business, and he didn't want her feeling any pity for him about his personal life either.

Her eyes flickered a moment, before turning her gaze from her merc to Vadim, her expression brightening as she gave the barkeep a warm greeting.

Whether she heard or not he still wasn't certain, but he was thankful that she didn't mention anything. He turned back and leaned his elbows on the bar, listening in to Vadim's and Artemis's conversation.

"Ah, my saviour! What are you doing back in this dump?" He teased, and she giggled in return, playfully swatting his arm.

"Just here on some errands."

MacCready snorted, "Yeah, just a couple of _small_ errands," he butted in sarcastically.

Artemis blushed, which, MacCready admitted, was kind of pretty, before Vadim put two-and-two together, smiling and swiveling his head between the two of them, like his neck was… broken or something. MacCready didn't really care what he looked like, he just wanted a good drink to burn his throat.

"Ah! My saviour and old MacCready working together? Drinks on the house for you two! It is the least thanks I can give!" Vadim cried at the top of his lungs, winking at Artemis, and MacCready cringed as half the bar turned to look at the commotion, most with scowls on their faces for being disturbed.

Artemis blushed harder, and after receiving their choice of drinks from the boisterous man they found a seat out of the way, in the far corner of the slowly filling bar. MacCready took her drink from her the moment they sat down and popped it with a spare bottle opener he carried, realizing she probably didn't have one herself, and she giggled nervously as he handed it back to her.

He pocketed the extra cap, and stayed silent, waiting for her reaction to the foul drink she decided to choose. She took a swig of the disgusting alcohol and her face scrunched up as if she was tasting a very sour lemon candy. MacCready tried holding in his laughter as she shook her head, hoping for the alcohol to go down smoother, but then he couldn't help and give a good hearty chuckle once she looked back at him, her eyes telling him that she regretted drinking in the first place.

"Sorry, I was never much of a drinker," her voice was hoarse, probably from the swill burning her throat.

"Yeah, you think, _saviour_?" He emphasized the word, silently asking for that particular story after he was finally done shaking with laughter, taking a sip from his own drink. Ah, Vadim had the good stuff this time.

She looked sheepish when she began talking again, "Oh, yeah, _that._ It wasn't anything, really. Vadim asked for my help to get Travis to be more confident, but he had a pretty stupid plan that went south so Travis and I ended up having to save him. So, long story short, Travis got some confidence and a girlfriend, and Vadim has a new saviour," when MacCready didn't reply, she added, "The end!"

"How many caps did you get out of Vadim?"

"What? Why would I get caps out of him?"

MacCready scowled, as if the answer was obvious, "Because you saved his butt? From, you know, being totally _dead_?"

Artemis's eyes flicked over to the counter, where Vadim was talking animatedly with his more moody brother, "Why would I? I mean, it was a good cause to help Travis, and Vadim is such a nice guy. It wasn't his fault he got captured. Isn't he your friend?"

MacCready gave a hard, single laugh without the same cheeriness it had held before, "Doesn't mean I wouldn't get a few caps out of the guy. Look how well he's off, 'course he's got a couple of caps to spend, especially with the right persuasion to get him off his cheap as- butt," he gave her a hard look, "Like I told you about the caps-"

"Yeah I know," she cut him off, but very softly, and he could tell she was getting flustered, "I thought you meant from people who… _demanded_ my help. Who obviously were cheating me out of caps for dangerous missions. Who obviously wanted to use me as gun fodder that they didn't want to face themselves. Vadim had a good cause, for a good friend. It just ended up turning bad," her voice her soft but with conviction, and once she was done she looked up to him, hoping for him to understand her explanation, and he almost agreed.

 _Almost._

He didn't care if the girl wasn't a natural born killer, or that she wanted to find the good in anything and everything, but caps were important, she had said so herself that she was saving up for… something. So how could she be so dense? Wasn't she here for a month already?

"Hm," was all he responded with, and he turned away from her to survey the rest of the bar. He didn't know how much of her pouting he could take before he actually ended up _agreeing_ with her, if only for her to wipe that cute look off her face.

Remember the caps. For Duncan.

"You said so yourself. You need caps. So stop wasting opportunities to earn some," his voice was hard, with an edge, and he saw from the corner of his eye her fidget in her seat, obviously nervous.

"Well, it was a while ago, I know that _now,"_ she sounded like a child who did something bad, had been scolded, and was now trying to justify her petulance.

"Whatever," once he was certain she no longer had that little pout on her face, he faced her and decided to bring up the real reason they were in a dark corner of this dingy pub in the first place, his nerves soothed with his long drinks of alcohol, "So, tell me all about your deal with Marowski. And no skimming on any details!" Maybe they could find a way to mooch even more caps out of this deal.

She hesitated a moment, looking intently at her bottle before taking a very long drink, one that MacCready could tell was burning her throat with alcohol, before going on to explain her tale. She didn't look him in the eye, still unnerved about the whole killing for money thing – like an assassin – but she didn't spare him any details either.

Helping – out of _good will,_ of course – Paul Pembroke with his wifey issues, making a deal with Henry Cooke ('because he seemed like a decent fellow and I didn't want to beat him up'), getting Paul caught up in the chem deal too, killing Marowski's goons and Nelson Latimer in the process by accident (grenades will tend to do that), watching their bodies explode except for one of the ghouls who they got info about Marowski from, and watching her walk away before Henry decided to turn on his deal and stab (or more like shoot) her in the back.

"Henry skipped town, Paul took the chems into Diamond City to sell and I got the directions to Marowski's chem lab," MacCready took note of this very interesting fact to ask about later, but otherwise didn't interrupt, "Then Nelson's father came accusing me of killing his son and I told him I… didn't," she breathed heavily, "He told me Marowski accused me of it, so I accused Marowski. He believed me, told me I'd get some caps for killing his son's murderer. And then he walked away. So I did it, partially for the caps and partially for the fact that if I didn't do it Malcolm would come after me too. I had heard about Marowski – what he's done, how many innocents he's killed – so I thought I was doing the right thing. That's when I got to Goodneighbour, _barely,_ and I found you in The Third Rail. I took you to the hotel with me, and once everyone was asleep, I went into Marowski's room and with a shock baton I… killed him. In his sleep. He couldn't even fight back." She looked at MacCready, her eyes unclear and hazy and a little bit glazed over from the telling him _everything_.

MacCready whistled appreciatively, "Wow, that is quite the story you got there. Make sure to keep it in your back pocket when you're in good company," he smiled, and he saw her visibly relax, the tension leaving her shoulders.

"So you're not…"

He waved her off, "I've done and been through worse. Everyone in the Commonwealth has. But I think I understand, you killing him in his sleep and all. Probably didn't feel the best. Not honorable?"

She nodded vigorously, and he knew he hit the nail on the head, the root of all her self-loathing.

"At least it was a guy like Marowski. Wasn't very honorable himself, and I would dare to say that I think he deserved it," he smirked at Artemis, and she smiled back before taking another sip of her beverage.

"So tell me some of your own stories, I'm sure they're pretty interesting!" She said it too cheerily after being so depressed a minute ago, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh, no, no, no!" He waggled his finger in front of her face, "You're not getting out of this one," she blushed from embarrassment, "You got information about how to get into freakin' Marowski's lab! Please tell me that you already scoured the place for all the chems and caps you could?" He was almost begging, he realized. But the thought of so many chems to sell and caps to collect had him almost drooling.

She shifted uncomfortably a bit again, "No, but we can leave for that next, it would be a good place to scourge up some extra caps and stuff," She looked at him for approval, if she had said the right thing.

"Now you're speaking my language," MacCready's smile was wide and languid. He leaned over the table, "C'mon, show me those directions and we'll be back on the road in no time!"

 **A/N:** _Wow, thank you all for the favs and follows! :) I'm happy people are digging this story so far, and here is the next chapter. Also thank you for all the reviews, it's nice to see what people are thinking!_


	5. Chapter 5

They had just finished storming Marowski's lab and oh god, did MacCready need a break. Thankfully, his boss had just the same idea, so after dumping all the ghouls they had dealt with into a pile far, far away from the old brewery they found themselves in and raiding Marowski's lab assistant's for their haz-mat suits (just in case), they built themselves a little fire in the middle of the lab area. Artemis was busy with food and MacCready was busy drooling over the amount of chems and caps they had found.

"These chems are gonna sell for _so_ much," MacCready (hated to say) gushed as he hastily stuffed all of them into his backpack. Unfortunately he would have to part with that fifth pipe pistol he had picked up for more space, but he wasn't about to cry over spilled milk.

He heard a very feminine giggle from behind him, and turned to see that somewhere along the line of cooking squirrel for dinner, Artemis had found Marowski's stash of liquor and had helped herself to some of… _that_. She was sprawled near the fire on a bedroll, on her back, squirrel smoking up where she had left it burning over the flames.

"I don't think you like me," She stated with only a slight slur to her speech. MacCready dropped his backpack in a hurry to stop his dinner from becoming a charcoal mess, picking up the squirrel-on-a-stick and dropping it onto one of the chem labs nearby to cool.

He turned back to her, hands on his hips, "Well not at the moment I don't. You almost – well – _did_ just turn our dinner into a heaping pile of ash. And I prefer when my meals are edible."

"No, no, I mean just – all the time," she sat up so he could look him more clearly in the eyes, "You don't hate me, but you don't really like me very much. I would say that yoou… tolerate me. At best." Her gaze was clear, but MacCready was sure that she wasn't handling the alcohol on an empty stomach very well.

He sat down beside her on the bedroll, staring into the fire's flames, and sneakily stole away her almost empty bottle of swill. Just in case. He chuckled, "Well, it's not like I'm your favorite person in the world. I'm pretty sure that I annoy you ninety percent of the time we're together."

It felt – _weird,_ talking so openly like this. But MacCready couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. Artemis slightly drunk, her giggling, it was all really refreshing. Now just to tease her a bit, maybe get her to blush, and MacCready could call it a really, _really_ successful day.

She frowned a bit at that, and shook her head, "No, you only annoy me sometimes. But I like being around you. It's nice travelling with someone that's fun, and real, and can make killing people not feel so… _icky_ all the time." She flopped back down on her back, sprawled before him, and sighed, "I don't think I'll ever get used to it, though. I don't think I'm meant for the Commonwealth."

He eyed her carefully, "Why do you think I don't like you?"

She started playing with strands of her red hair, spread around her like a fiery halo, "Because I can never be what you want me to be. I like helping people, and I'm scared. I need caps, but… everybody here does, don't they?"

His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed her eyes tiredly. He scooted closer to her, until he was almost leaning over her, looking in her eyes. All he saw was… sad. It made him frown. He didn't like that look on her.

"I'll try my best though, to make you like me," she whispered, staring into his eyes.

"…You're drunk, I think it's time we headed to bed," he replied quietly, lifting the side of the bedroll and tucking her underneath it, watching as she readily followed his word and snuggled down into the thin sheets.

Before he could pull away and get into his own bedroll, he was pulled into a tight hug, Artemis's warm breath playing over the nape of his neck.

"Thank you for staying with me," she whispered, and he tentatively returned the hug, although he doubted he really deserved it.

After all, he was no better than his own advice, following a woman for the caps she would pass to him for his help.

She let go and curled into her bedroll, turning away from him and his searching gaze. After a quiet exchange of 'good nights', MacCready got settled into his own makeshift bed. He didn't sleep until much later though, staring at the lump that was Artemis across from him, listening to the flickering flames.

"I'm sorry, boss," he whispered, hoping that she was asleep and didn't hear.

In the morning, neither of the mentioned the night before, setting out for Goodneighbor once more. But MacCready knew that Artemis remembered, if the way those stormy eyes watched him was any indication.

 **A/N:** _Wow, thank you all so much for the all the favs and follows for this story! I'm happy to see you all enjoying the story, and thank you for all the reviews as well! :)_


	6. Chapter 6

" _Ow_ ," Artemis whined as MacCready pressed a compact soaked in alcohol to the hole in her left arm. He looked at her face, scrunched up in pain, before returning to tending her wound.

"Why do we have to back to Goodneighbor? Supermutants run rabid here and I don't think it's exactly the best place to hang around…"

She hissed as he started wrapping her arm up in some spare gauze, "I was thinking we could sell those chems we got for really good prices to Hancock – besides, we're almost there anyway!"

Once he was finished, he started packing up and scavenging the dead Supermutants for extra ammo, "You're telling me you're on good terms with Hancock, too? Who next, the whole Institute?" He smirked, his tone disbelieving and sarcastic at the same time.

Artemis giggled lightly, sitting up and stretching her arm to test out MacCready's impromptu first-aid job, "I guess you could say that. I ran into him my first time through here, before I met you."

"Let's get going then, I don't think I have enough booze to spare to patch you up again, and I can't say all these chems are exactly light."

"We could always use a couple before we get there…" She tried joking, but it came out awkward at best, which made MacCready nervous. Sure, he had heard of Vault Dweller's getting into chems the minute they found out what happened above grounds, what had become of their new lives, but deep in his gut he hoped Artemis wasn't one of them.

He frowned at her, "Are you serious?"

She stayed silent for a moment, before looking down, embarrassed, "I mean – um, no… I wouldn't, but you can if you want." She shrugged lightly.

MacCready sighed in relief, before laughing, "No, I'm good, I think."

Artemis brightened immediately, "Oh! Okay – good." And with that she was on her way towards Goodneighbor again, MacCready close behind, watching as she gently swayed her hips and danced a little to the music that was coming from her Pip-Boy. _Atom Bomb Baby,_ one of his personal favorites.

He remembered their conversation from the night before – and his lips turned downwards into a frown, his eyebrows knitting together. Maybe he _had_ been a little hard on the girl – the Commonwealth was unforgiving enough, and then she had to deal with his bullshit on top of that.

Did she really think he didn't like her?

Well, they _were_ just partners, she was his boss, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the company – didn't enjoy being on the road, listening to her sing along to Diamond City Radio (although really badly, at best), and telling him stories of the time before the War. So yeah, he definitely didn't mind her, and making up his mind, he sped up his steps until he was walking alongside her.

He could tell by the way she carried herself she had an unspoken burden – almost everyone in the Commonwealth did – and maybe if he shared a part of himself, it could lighten her own burden, at least a little bit.

She turned to him expectantly, and he went right into it, "You know, I don't usually share stuff like this, but you've been pretty straight with me," She looked away, uncomfortable, knowing he was probably referring to the night before, "So I'm going to be straight with you. You know I worked with the Gunners," She nodded, "Well those two ass- _idiots_ you saw me talking to at the Third Rail, Winlock and Barnes, have been causing me problems. You've been my first customer in months because they've been driving off clients, telling everyone I've worked with the Gunners so they won't touch me with a ten-foot pole."

Artemis smiled, "Good thing I don't know who the Gunners are."

He returned the gesture, "Yeah, but it's also why I've had such a hard time with caps lately – can't get many sitting around a bar all day, and I need them too, but on top of my… personal expenses, I thought I could buy them out if I scrap enough together."

She nodded, "That makes sense," She paused, "Caps really _are_ important in the Commonwealth."

He grunted in agreement, "Yeah, that's why it's important to be stingy with them," He nudged her playfully, and she blushed in acknowledgement, "Anyway, even if I get enough caps, I'm not sure how I'll pull it off, Winlock and Barnes have a small army of Gunners with them at all times. Could get a bullet in my head even after I pay them – you know, for good measure," She frowned, "So, _I_ was thinking – if you'd be willing of course – to put an end to them before they put an end to… well, me. I'm only asking because I trust you, and if you wanna say no, well, I understand." Her eyes lit up at the word 'trust', and he couldn't help the little feeling of hope that she would help bubble up. Without the Gunners on his back, it meant he could get more business, and more caps for Duncan, and maybe he could even find that elusive cure and finally have his son back with him.

There, he put it all on the table, and now it was her turn to deal.

"Of course I'll help!" She was almost jumping up and down with elation, and he wasn't sure which part of his speech made her so excited, but he was glad she wasn't worried about their conversation from the previous night anymore, "I mean, I don't know how much help I'll be," She admitted quietly, "But I would love to."

"Wow… I don't know what to say," He shrugged his shoulders, looking down the alleyway they were walking through, "Truth is, I haven't been able to rely on anyone since I was a kid. You know, mostly rip-offs or knife-in-the-back sort of deals, but you're different. Sure, we don't see eye to eye on everything, but it's nice to know you care about me," He took her elbow in hand, playing around with the map on her Pip-Boy. She stayed silent the whole time, watching his face intently as he put in the coordinates to the Gunner's base, "We can take them down at Mass Pike Interchange, whenever you wanna head over there."

He let go of her arm, finally looking back at her face after his little confession, and was glad to see a little bit of a blush on her cheeks and her biting her lower lip to keep from smiling too hard. She hugged him abruptly, squeezing his waist surprisingly tight, and after letting out a surprised grunt, he returned the gesture.

"Goodneighbor, then supply run at Diamond City, and then we head over there!" She exclaimed, muffled because she had said in into his chest, before letting him go and continuing down the way to Goodneighbor.

Now all MacCready wanted was to hear more about her, but he would wait. They obviously had a long way to go.

"Are we getting drinks tonight? I certainly hope the answer is yes." He joked, already knowing her answer – it was obvious she wasn't willing to spend any more caps willy nilly, already becoming more stingy than she already was after his conversation with her at the Dugout, and he couldn't exactly say he wanted to spend any caps when he had so many saved for Duncan already.

She laughed ahead of him, "No, I already indulged enough in Diamond City, I really need to save up my caps if I'm going to-" She cut herself off.

MacCready couldn't help but ask, his curiosity peaking, "Going to what?'

She shrugged, "Nothing. You'll probably see eventually anyway."

 **-oooooo-**

MacCready didn't like the way Hancock looked at Artemis, and MacCready didn't like the way Artemis giggled at everything Hancock said. He lingered, sulking in Hancock's office doorway, watching as Artemis traded their chem pile – almost as tall as her long legs – to Hancock, watching a large pile of caps being transferred from his ghouly hand to her soft and delicate one.

He had learned that her hands weren't calloused like most were in the Commonwealth, and he wouldn't ever tell anyone, but he enjoyed whenever they traded ammunition and guns, just so he could feel the soft skin on his own chapped hands.

So when Hancock took one of said hands into his and kissed her on the knuckles, making Artemis blush furiously, MacCready was _not_ happy. His scowl could rival a Death Claw, and Fahrenheit, MacCready's assistant, said as much to him. Wrong decision. He placed his hand on the butt of his gun, sitting snugly in its holster, and she got the message, going to do whatever it was that she did.

Finally, after much talking – too much, really – Artemis returned to MacCready with a blush dusting her cheeks (it just made him scowl fiercer, but she didn't seem to notice) and they made their way out of the Old State House.

"Look how many caps I got us!" She flashed MacCready a brilliant smile, passing the caps into his hand. They weren't as satisfying as they usually were, clicking together in his open palm.

He grunted in response, and Artemis's smile thinned into a straight line. She looked away from him, and started playing with her hair. It had gotten longer since they started travelling together, passing her shoulders and flowing freely down her back. Like molten fire, but a deeper, more burgundy tone.

MacCready shook his head, silently questioning himself about where his thoughts were going, "I also got us a job from Hancock to check out Pickman Gallery – he didn't really give us a time to finish it by, so I was thinking we could just check it out if we ever pass by the area." She spoke up, a lot less bubbly then before, looking at the map on her Pip-Boy.

"Yeah, sure," MacCready was only half-listening, still mentally berating himself for the way his thoughts had wandered. "Are we leaving now, or do you want to stay the night? You probably should with that arm…" He added, softer this time.

She looked back at him, relieved that he wasn't as mad as she thought he was, "That's what I was thinking, too. I was actually going to check out the Memory Den here – I heard all about it the last time I was here, and I think I'd like to try it. So… You can come if you want, or you can do what you want here for the night of course." She rambled a bit at the end, seemingly embarrassed, "Not that I own you or anything! It's just that-"

"It's okay, I got it. I'm going to… do some stuff first, then I'll meet you there."

She nodded, and started heading in the direction of the Memory Den, before she was stopped by the grip of a strong arm on her arm. She turned around to see MacCready staring at her intently, eyes narrowed.

"Just... be careful in there. Don't get addicted on any of that shi- stuff, alright? It's not worth it. And don't be spending caps where they're not worth it, either."

She stared into his eyes, nodding, "Promise. I just need to see something, at least once more." He didn't ask her to elaborate, assuming by the way her eyes went glassy that it was something important and probably personal, and he turned around and started heading over to Daisy's place.

"MacCready!" She called to him once she saw him entering her shop in her raspy voice, "What brings you back to my humble shop?" She teased.

"Come to see your beautiful face again, Daisy – I just can't seem to resist." He smirked at the ghoul, enjoying their easy banter.

"Pfft, please, you _know_ I stopped being attractive about, oh, seventy years ago," Daisy turned around from the ammo she was filling her shelves with and leaned her elbows over the counter to get a closer look at MacCready, "You've actually been out of the city. Didn't think I'd see that in a long time! Please tell me you got some caps for Duncan? You better get some to him soon if you want him to make it…" She had turned solemn, relaying his son's condition to him.

"Don't worry, me and the boss have been busy, and I got plenty of caps – how many this time?" MacCready asked, already digging into the pocket he kept his caps in – close to his heart.

"Six hundred caps," MacCready almost choked at that figure, and Daisy raised her hands in surrender, "Hey, don't look at me like that, it's been a couple months and the kid needs his protection, meds, and food of course."

"No, no, I just – let me see if I have enough." Last he had checked he had about five hundred, but he still hadn't counted the money Artemis had given him earlier. He did a quick recheck to see he had – _a thousand caps?_ "Woah – really _did_ get us a good price," he mumbled to himself before handing eight hundred caps to Daisy, "There you go, eight hundred, make sure he gets something nice too, okay?"

She stared at him incredulously, as if she was just as surprised as he was that he had enough caps and extra to boot, and replied quietly, still mystified, "Yeah, of course, pal."

He waved goodbye, and started almost running down the street to make it to the Memory Den, hoping to catch Artemis before she got herself into one of those weird devices they had hooked up. She must have made a mistake – he was sure of it, that's why he kept the extra two hundred to himself, just to make sure that if she did make a mistake with how many caps she had given him (he was certain he didn't make _or_ deserve five hundred) he would be able to pay her back easily. At least he hoped so.

He made it to the Memory Den in record time, and caught Artemis just as she was finished talking to what looked like the owner of the place. She saw him approach, and walked over to him quickly.

"Hey! I just got my first – and only - session," she added quickly from the look on MacCready's face, "For free!"

He sighed dramatically, "Why am I not surprised? What did you tell'em this time?"

She didn't seem as cheery as she usually did when he teased her, but she played along anyway, "Just told her Hancock was a close friend and that he recommended me to come here."

MacCready chuckled, "Did he?" She shook her head in response, and he smirked, "Gettin' pretty savvy in the post-apocalyptic world, I see. Speaking of Hancock," He took out a single cap, silently asking for an answer to his unasked question.

"What about him? And what does he had to do with a cap?"

"You paid me _five hundred caps_ – no way Hancock paid that much for all those chems! And I definitely did not earn five hundred, take this back," he put his remaining two hundred caps in her upturned palm, "You need the caps."

She quickly put all the caps back into his pocket, "No, no, please! Please keep it. I- I know I need it but you need it, too. We both obviously do," Her laugh was melancholy, "Hancock gave me a lot of caps, and we're partners, so keep them."

"You're all set up, whenever you're ready!" The blonde woman called to them, standing beside one of the open… things. Before MacCready could force the damn caps down Artemis's throat, she smiled hesitantly at him and made her way over to the woman, taking her seat in the… thing.

For a moment, MacCready thought that maybe she was actually cheating him out of some caps and that they had earned way more than she was letting on, which was why she was so okay with parting with five hundred of them. He looked down at the two hundred caps in his hands, vowing to give most of it to Daisy before they left Goodneighbor, and pocketed them again. He stomped out those thoughts as soon as he got them – they were partners, she had said it herself, and he didn't think she would cheat him out, but he was definitely not going to get rid of perfectly good caps either.

He sat himself down on one of the side benches, watching Artemis intently to make sure these people at the Den weren't screwing her over and just pumping her full of chems. She seemed fine, for all he knew, until he saw her face scrunching up in slight discomfort. Not thinking much of it, probably just accidentally touched on a bad memory by mistake, he continued watching her.

He started to get worried once she started fidgeting around in the pod she was in, as if trying to escape it, pounding on the glass, and seeing although her eyes were still closed. He got up and started shaking the blonde woman to turn the damn machine off when he saw her start crying, tears running down her cheeks as she let out words he couldn't hear through the thick glass.

It was horrible, it looked like she was trapped and had no way to get out while muffled cries rang out around her, only making it to his ears when they were incoherent sounds. Finally, the doctor controlling the whole machine came to her senses enough to shut off the program and open Artemis's capsule.

" _Nate! Shaun!"_ She cried out, near hysterics with tears streaming down her face as she repeated those two names over and over again.

MacCready ran to her side, taking her out of her personal prison and sitting her down on one of the benches, cradling her in his arms as she clung to his chest.

"What – who's Shaun? Who's Nate? _Artemis_?"

She buried herself into his chest, weeping slowly, and he nudged her to try to get her out of her stupor, and asking again, more ardently, who Sam was.

She pulled away from him abruptly, whispering almost incoherently, "He's my _son!"_

 **A/N:** _I don't know if it's canon or not but I see MacCready super not into chems, but also has a sense of justice so y'know, likes to pickpocket from those who deserve it but is not really willing to take the Sole Survivor's caps. I just want to say thank you all so much for all the favs, follows, and especially reviews! This story is definitely going in a different direction than I had originally planned, and it's awesome to see so much feedback, and please let me know what you think of this chapter :) too cheesy, not enough? Let me know!_


	7. Chapter 7

MacCready stared at her incredulously, "Your… your son…" She was too young to be a mother – no, that wasn't right, she was two hundred years old – she was a Vault Dweller, why was this the most surprising thing he had learned about her? Hell, he was a dad… Wait –

"Where is your son?" It was the first question that came to his mind, before he realized that the blonde lady was standing over them and that he should probably get Art out of here before she – or him – started making this worse.

"I'm so sorry Miss – we didn't know that memory would be pulled up –"

Artemis interrupted her with another wail, "I just – I wanted to see him one more time b-but not like _that!"_ MacCready was getting more confused by the minute.

"I understand and we're _sorry,"_ the lady was sounding more annoyed than actually concerned, and MacCready started picking Artemis up into his arms and making his way towards the exit. Apparently, the lady couldn't take a hint and followed after him, "But we'll give you a full refund, whenever you wish to return." The fake cheeriness in her voice almost made him gag.

Artemis was a babbling mess in his arms, and the blonde monster was lucky that his arms were preoccupied or else she would have a shotgun bullet in her head. He restrained himself enough not to yell at the woman – Artemis _first_ – or open his mouth at all as he practically sprinted down the street from the Memory Den to Goodneighbor's half-decent hotel where Artemis could cry in relative peace and explain to him what the hell happened and about _her son!_

He got weird stares the whole time he was running down the street with a sobbing woman in his arms, but he couldn't care less, and only a few minutes later (still too long, in his opinion), they were sitting on a rock-hard mattress, Art's cries turning into sniffles as MacCready held her in his lap and rocked her back and forth. Like he used to do with Duncan. He shook his head, and waited until she was silent to ask one of the many nagging questions plaguing his mind.

He didn't need to, "You're probably really confused."

He raised his eyebrows, "You know, maybe just a little bit," He couldn't help the hint of anger in his tone. He didn't know _why_ he was so caught up, but he wasn't going to let her off the hook until she explained what had happened, what had caused her to be so broken.

Not mention – _where was her son?_ Sure, _his_ son wasn't with him, but MacCready had lived in the Wasteland long enough to know how to take care of Duncan even if he wasn't around him 24/7, but this girl was fresh – out on her own for a month, then with him for another, he had no doubt that if her kid wasn't with her, he wasn't exactly in the best spot either. Or safe. Maybe he was already dead…

So no, he was not in a very good mood.

She tried laughing, a watery sound, but MacCready didn't join her, his face a stone, so she stopped and cleared her throat so it wouldn't be so hoarse from all her crying, "I just wanted to see my husband one more time…"

So dead, probably, or missing. But what about her son, Nate? Or was it Shaun?

"While we were all frozen in that stupid Vault, some people came and – and shot Nate," her voice broke, no louder than a whisper, "I just wanted to see his face one more time… B-but I guessed they pulled up a bad memory, considering I just saw him get shot one more time."

MacCready let out a deep breath, and drew soothing circles over Art's back, knowing all too well what it was like to lose the person you loved most in the world. Watching it repeat over and over in your mind, _without_ the help of the Memory Den. For a moment, his anger dissipated and he looked down at the whimpering ball in his arms.

"I'm sorry…"

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to look nonchalant, but he saw the strain in her face from her trying to keep from crying again, "Every time I think I'm over it, and that I have to move on, to keep fighting for our son, I just see his face, and I think he'll come back even though I know he probably never could. But I hope anyway. I thought if I could see his face one more time, I could get closure, but…"

He shushed her, rocking her gently. It hurt, he knew. _So, so bad._ And it was going to hurt, no matter what promises chems or memories or anything else the god-awful Commonwealth could offer. He thought of Lucy – her beautiful face, her smile, her laugh. Duncan had fit so perfectly in her arms when he was just born.

He blinked back his own tears – this wasn't about him, this was about Art. He had to be the strong one this time. Once she calmed down again, he asked the real question.

"What about your son?"

She stilled in his arms, tense, before answering, although she dare not look up into his searching eyes, "He's missing."

 _Missing? Goddamn missing? For two months?_

MacCready fumed, squeezing Art by the shoulders and holding her at arm's length so he could finally look into her eyes, out of the comfort of his arms. She looked scared, but at that moment he didn't care. There was a real child out who knows where - for all they both knew _dead_ \- and she was here looking at long dead memories!

MacCready gritted his teeth before he did something he really regretted, " _And why have you not started looking for him?"_ He hissed out, "Here you are parading around the Commonwealth with me and what about your fu- _dang_ son!"

She pulled out of his arms and took a seat on the desk facing the bed, facing MacCready. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, cold and angry, "I haven't been _parading_ around! I've been collecting caps so I could go and save him and find him!"

"Save me the bull- crap. _Save me the crap_. When we met you barely had enough to pay for my _services_ ," She flinched at the word, "and all of a sudden you're saving up caps to save your son. What a good mom you are!" He said with all the sarcasm he could muster, and instantly regretted it.

He saw tears pool anew in her eyes as she glared at him, completely shutting down, shutting him out, "You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through. I was tricked into some goddamn science project and woke up two hundred years later to find my husband dead and my son _missing!"_ She was yelling now, "But please, oh please, save me the sympathy. I don't need it! I didn't hire you to judge me," She waved her arms in front of her, sarcasm dripping from her voice, and he clenched his jaw, "I've been helping people, and they've helped me. And each day I hope that maybe the next person I meet will lead me to my son, because I still hope for the good in people. Do you not get it? Everyday I'm looking for him! And now I happened to have the opportunity to save caps so I can hire someone who will _actually_ help me find my son!"

He stared at her, not willing to take his eyes away, "So you've just been doing charity work for the past month, not worried about your son out there by himself? Letting people take advantage of you so you don't have to face your responsibilities?"

She shot him a dirty glare, "I don't care how many people screw me over, it won't change that people genuinely need help, and I'll always be willing to give it, no matter how incompetent I may be for the task. Even if they can't help me, I know how it feels to be helpless. And I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Guilt washed over him in a wave. Who was he to judge her? He wasn't exactly the cleanest raider out there. She had been through so much these past two months, and she had stuck through it, with a missing kid to boot. He stood up from the bed and wiped his palms on the front of his pants, suddenly awkward. He looked at Art, her body turned in on herself, hugging herself while she tried with all her might not to cry again. _To cry over him._

"So that means you're saving up for Valentine's help, right?" The most famous private detective in the Commonwealth, of course she was saving up for him. He tried approaching her, voice soft and pleading, his own way of trying to say sorry, "You probably have a lot now, so we should head over there as soon as we can, right?"

She shook her head, not looking at him, "Almost, but his services are two thousand caps… Wait, 'we'?" She looked up at him then.

He nodded his head, "Yeah, us, you don't think I'm going to drop you because of a stupid fight, especially since I've been such an ass- jerk to you? If anything, you should probably drop me as soon as you can," he tried sounding nonchalant, but the thought of her leaving him here to not know if she ever found her son again hurt. Yeah, that was the only reason.

She didn't say anything for a moment, and instead headed over to her bag and started rummaging around it. He knew she probably wasn't looking for anything in particular, but needed something to keep her hands busy.

"Valentine really costs that much?"

She was silent for another moment, and without turning back to him nodded, "It's not a service fee or anything. He wasn't there when I asked for help, but his assistant told me with it being such a weird case and all that, that they would have to pool all the resources they had to find him."

He sat back on the bed, not knowing what to do with himself either, "…Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

She sighed, and turned around. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and she looked absolutely miserable, "I figured you would be like any other mercenary that I met on the road. Either trying to swindle me out of caps because of my 'delicate' situation, not willing to do the job because of the risk of the Institute involved, or trying to get me in bed instead of actually helping. So… I just stopped mentioning it."

He cracked a small smile at hearing that, "Smart move."

She turned back to him, surprised, and smiled slightly, "Thanks. I guess." She turned back to her pack, and finding what she seemed to have eventually started searching for, she turned back to MacCready and showed him the photo that she had in her hands. It was beaten down, the edges tearing, but it made MacCready's guilt bubble to an all-time high.

There was Artemis, a smile so bright he was certain he would be blinded, and that he would never see it in the flesh, and beside her a handsome young man that he assumed was Nate. And in her arms… a little baby, no older than a few months old.

"This was taken a few days before the nukes hit," She whispered, and he nearly cried out.

"He was just a baby…"

She leaned her head on his shoulder, nodding against him, her tears spilling down her cheeks. MacCready brought her into a tight side hug, still looking at the photo in his hand.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered sincerely into her hair, holding her close.

"It's not your fault… It's my fault," she whimpered.

" _No._ It's not," he paused a moment, "I'm so sorry about – about what I said. I just- I never…"

"It's okay," She looked up at him, into his eyes, "I just need a few more jobs done and then we can visit Valentine at his agency. That is – if you're still willing to stick by," she asked, uncertain.

"Yeah, of course," He quickly pulled her discarded Pip-Boy off the floor that had been lost in his scuffle into the hotel room, and turned it to its map function.

"We can get a lot of caps off those Gunners once we get down there, and this probably doesn't sound like the best idea, but if you're willing…" She motioned for him to continue, "If we go the long way around, passing through Sanctuary on your map here and then looping around, there are a couple of settlements on the road to the Interchange. See, there are too many guards in Diamond City or even here to pull off a good heist, but on the road…"

"Are you saying we steal?" She asked him, skeptical.

"If the opportunity arises…" He looked at her expectantly, and she, quite frankly, didn't look very pleased with the idea. _Your son is missing and now you decide to be picky?_ He thought bitterly before speaking again, "Okay, _fine,_ if worst comes to worst then we can steal a couple caps, without anybody being put out. But, we can probably pick up a couple jobs on the way to the Interchange, make plenty of caps, then head back into Diamond City and ask old Valentine to help us find your son."

"Shaun."

"Right, Shaun."

"Okay, that sounds good," she replied, very softly, and pulled him into a gentle hug once he placed the Pip-Boy on the bedside table, "Thank you so much. I promise I won't keep anything from you again, if you ask or otherwise. I think it'll be better that way."

He returned the hug, holding her close, and he felt the guilt creep up into the pit of his stomach again. _You're such an asshole, MacCready._ He really was. He should tell her about Duncan, why he needed his caps so much, why he was so stingy, but he just couldn't. The girl in his arms was so fresh, with too much on her plate, and he wouldn't add on to that at the moment with his own problems. Maybe later, when they found her son, but not now.

So instead of replying, he just reveled in her touch for a moment.

"I wish you had told me sooner, that way I could have given you more of the caps that I had saved up, too. And we could go straight to Valentine. Now, though…"

"Shut up," she replied, and he was actually surprised by her quick and sharp response, "I understand you have something on your plate you need to deal with too. I wouldn't have taken the caps back if you shoved them down my throat," He actually chuckled at that, remembering that he had the exact same thoughts just hours earlier, "I understand now why you're so caught up with caps. Everyone is, I think."

He nodded, his cheek against the crown of her head, "Yup. I just have a funny way of teaching it to you." He rubbed the top of her head with his knuckle, making her laugh – a relieved and relaxed sound. He was so glad to hear it.

She pulled away from him, and they stared at each other a moment. She looked relieved, and determined, and also a little sleepy. She almost looked… cute. The guilt made MacCready look away. He picked up his own pack, told her he was getting his own room for the night, and told her a soft good night before shutting the door.

He saw her looking down at the photo in her lap longingly before wood blocked his vision.

 **A/N:** _Wow! I just want to say thank you so much for all of the feedback for the last chapter! Thank you for all the favs, and follows, and reviews! I hope you don't mind, MangoBait, but I started using 'Art' as Artemis's nickname, I think it's super cute. Also, I know the fight didn't last long, but I felt it was kind of a touchy subject and MacCready wouldn't have it in him to fight with her over her son. Don't worry – there shall be angst in the foreseeable future :)_


	8. Chapter 8

Art stretched languidly in bed, refusing to open her eyes for as long as possible. She had _finally_ slept well – the first time since she was stuck in a frozen meat locker – and she wasn't going to waste the experience to wake up, or anything of that nonsense.

The mattress springs creaked under her weight, and she let out a deep breath. Finally, she opened her eyes, dim light assaulting her from behind the closed curtains of her hotel room. Her eyes stuck together slightly because of all the crying she did last night, before and after MacCready left her to sleep, but she simply smiled after sitting up.

She had dreamt about Nate – not a nightmare, like most of her nights were filled with, but a real dream. A peaceful one, almost like a peaceful memory she could enjoy one last time, and it was all thanks to the man sleeping next door. She blushed thinking about him, realizing that perhaps she had finally let Nate move on, her dream his way of telling her he was okay. At least, she hoped that's what it meant.

Tears welled in her eyes at the thought, and she hugged herself tightly. It would still take time, and it would still hurt, she knew, but she also knew that she could get through it, if MacCready stayed by her side. Sure, he was hard on her, but he kept her distracted, and she finally had someone to help her find Shaun! She felt herself bubble with happiness – without MaCready, she definitely wouldn't have enough caps saved up to find him, and she probably wouldn't even be alive if she was being honest.

Speaking of MacCready, he was usually the first one up at first light, waking her up too. She was always a late sleeper, and although MacCready griped about it, she was certain he found it amusing usually waking her up with a face full of cold water. And looking once more out the closed curtains of her room, she was sure it was _way_ past first light.

She quickly scrambled to put on her Pip-Boy, checking the time while she did. 12:30. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head. No way would MacCready sleep in this late! A million different scenarios ran through her mind at once, but all of them had the same ending – MacCready dead somewhere. All rational thought that he was a mercenary who survived for a living leaving her mind as she imagined the Gunners coming for him in the middle of the night.

Or maybe he finally decided she wasn't worth the trouble. She sighed, trying to tell herself that he wouldn't leave her and that he was probably just dead - but that thought didn't help either.

She ran to the door of her room, slinging her bag over her shoulder in the process, only to be stopped in her tracks when she heard the crunching of paper beneath her foot. She pulled away from the door handle and picked up the sheet of paper carefully, in case it was a ransom or threat to get her partner back. She opened the folded sheet, reading its contents and laughing at herself for being ridiculous, yet again.

 _A,_

 _Saw you were sleeping and didn't want to wake you. Gone to the Third Rail for drinks. Meet you there._

 _-M._

Art smiled at the nice gesture, blushing furiously at his simple words. MacCready was never easy on being lazy, but she was glad he let her have one night of peace. She really needed it.

He always seemed to know exactly what she needed.

She opened the door, a lot less panicky and a lot more excited to start the day – one more day closer to being with Shaun! – and headed to the Third Rail to get out of horrible Goodneighbor. Not that it was _totally_ horrible, per se, but it was definitely _horrible_.

She practically skipped, much to the confusion and chagrin of those roaming the noon-time streets, and made it to the Third Rail with only three people begging for various chems or small amounts of caps. She would never tell MacCready, of course, that she helped each and every one of them, of course (it's not like either of them used any of their chems, anyway).

Down the steps she went, and she took in the bar that she had only visited once before. There was Magnolia, the nice woman she had met her first time through Goodneighbor who had directed her to Mac in the first place, singing what Art assumed was one of her originals. She saw Hancock sitting on one of the corner couches, injecting chems totally inconspicuously with some other ghouls, and then she saw MacCready.

Her stomach did a little bit of a flip when she saw Mac standing near the bar, his arm around the waist of a beautiful woman Art didn't recognize (not that she knew many people around these parts, but still) and his face rammed into her neck and ear, hidden behind golden locks so she couldn't see his face. The woman he was with giggled, maybe at something he said, and MacCready pulled away to look at her face, his smile wide and vibrant.

Sure, Artemis had seen him smile before, but never like _that_ , so wide and genuinely happy, without any of the strain or sadness that usually tinged the edges of it. That was a smile that made Artemis feel sick, mostly because it was directed at some – she hated to use the word – bimbo.

(You could just tell by the look of her that she was).

She flipped that golden hair over her shoulder, MacCready following it and running his fingers through the strands shortly after, making the woman giggle obnoxiously again. Artemis's cheeks suddenly flushed and she could feel her body heat up with embarrassment – from watching Mac's obvious private moment for so long, or something else, she wasn't sure.

MacCready scanned his eyes across the entirety of the bar for a moment, and when his eyes met with Artemis's, he tensed a moment, before holding up his hand for her to wait. His mood did a one-eighty change once he saw her, and all she could do was nod dejectedly until he was done.

Instead of watching him, however, she decided to find her _own_ fun while she was waiting. She sauntered over to Hancock, leaving MacCready to his whims, who looked up to her with a giant smile plastered on his face. They were friends from their few dealings together, that was true, but she could tell he only grinned like that after the chems had made their round through his veins and brain. It didn't matter to Art, though, because any smile directed at her made her feel better in her current state.

She sat down beside Hancock after a brief greeting, and slumped in her chair. They were supposed to be looking for Shaun, not flirting, and at the same time Art couldn't help but feel guilty for wanting to take Mac away so quickly when he obviously had his own love interest in the city of Goodneighbor.

Maybe she had just thought… she shook her head quickly, knowing already where her mind was going to wander.

"Whatsammatta, kid?" the scratchy voice of Hancock asked her, pulling her from her thoughts.

She turned to look at him, concern shining in his… eye sockets, and she gave him a polite smile in thanks, "Nothing, just a little busy, a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Pft, we're all busy here, kid, you just need to relax more," he turned away from her a moment before handing her a syringe, filled to the brim with a clear substance, some leaking out of the needle's end, "Don't worry, it's a clean needle, only the best for our new supplier!" He called out the last part so the rest of the ghoul-crowd could hear, and they all started cheering for her, drug-induced smiles on their faces.

Suddenly feeling very, very uncomfortable, but before she could deny the chems and the whole new supplier business Hancock apparently forgot to tell her about, a voice she was familiar with cut through the smoke-filled air.

"You wanna start heading out? It's getting late," his eyes were unreadable, arms crossed over his chest, and voice hard. It wasn't a question; it was a demand if Art had ever heard one.

Quickly handing back Hancock's syringe and promising to visit soon (with or without chems, it was yet to be seen) and meekly went to Mac's side, both of them leaving the Third Rail in silence. The blonde woman was nowhere to be seen.

Once they had exited Goodneighbor's boundaries, guns loaded at ready just in case, Mac broke the silence between them, "So you and Hancock, huh?"

He sounded nervous and Art was more confused than before. She wasn't even touching Hancock, let alone holding a conversation, how could he ask her about him when he was hanging off the arm of some floozy! Her stomach did that uncomfy flip again.

"I didn't take his chems, if that's what you're asking, I was gonna say no before you showed," she replied and shrugged her shoulders. He grunted in response.

"What do you mean 'showed'? I was there the whole time!" he griped back, and Art was confused by his sudden hostility. Was it because he was stuck with her, stuck getting caps before he could return and start a life with his blonde friend?

Maybe _that_ was what Mac was saving all his caps for. It just made Art feel worse, having to guess about Mac's life when she had decided to be so open with her own. But she wouldn't push him, patience had already got her bits and pieces of his past with the Gunners, and maybe if she stayed patient now she could learn more about his companion, too.

"Well, I know. I saw you with… whoever it was you were with," she replied, keeping her eyes ahead of her.

"Mhm, and then I tell you to wait for one minute and you go off to sit with Hancock, of all people!" His voice was getting louder, and it only made Art want to curl into a ball and wait until his angry tirade was over.

She chanced a glance over at him, and he was scowling right at her, "Why are you so mad at me? Can you tell me _why_?" She asked quietly, her own voice with an edge, except a sad one.

He seemed to deflate instantly, and instead tried a different approach, "Why did you sit with Hancock, do you two…?"

Now she felt like they were going around in circles, "I was sitting with Hancock because you were having a very intimate moment!" Her cheeks flushed, "So I didn't want to bother you, that's all."

"Oh," was his reply, and they stayed silent after that, both avoiding the eyes of the other. Art trying desperately to stop the red that was crawling over her cheeks and probably neck too.

MacCready, abandoning his usual pacing, which was a few steps behind Art, jogged up to her so that he could walk right by her side. She didn't look at him, and he didn't look at her either.

"I got some good caps out of her."

Art swivelled around to look at him, "What?" Now she was more confused than before.

"I mean, she looked like a rich kid to me so I thought I could get a couple hundred, but she only had like, eighty, max. But hopefully it'll help with the ammo costs once we get to the Diamond," Mac dared a look at Art's face, which was currently scrunched up in confusion.

Now it was her turn to say, "Oh."

"Yeah, sorry I just waved you off, but y'know. It's hard to convince a woman you'll be her Prince Charming one day if she can spare a few caps to find yourself when a pretty girl comes and asks him when they'll leave the city."

So the woman wasn't anyone special to Mac. In all honesty, it didn't make Art feel better about the whole situation. She had seen in it his smile – even if he was just scamming the girl, how could he hide the genuine smile when he ran his hands through her hair? And if Mac _was_ such a good actor, what was to say that their relationship was genuine at all?

"That's fine," she replied, far off in her own thoughts.

And although the air was cleared as quickly as Mac blew out at her for sitting with Hancock, the next few days on the road to the Diamond was still awkward. At least for Art, if the way her thoughts were wandering was any indication.

 **-oooooo-**

Bags full of caps and ammo, the duo were ready to leave for Sanctuary, what Artemis liked to imagine was her own little home base. She had even started redecorating her old house from before the war a bit, fit with turrets of course. She had even kept Shaun's crib just in case. She was excited to be heading back there, even if only for a while.

Deciding to spend the night at the Diamond as it was already early evening, MacCready decided to get some famous noodles while Artemis window-shopped at the various stores lining the city's open market.

Her mind, eventually, wandered back to MacCready, and she grew frustrated because she still couldn't figure out his act. Was he really just playing her for some extra caps – if so, how different was she than the blonde woman who's hair almost looked white in the fluorescent lights of the Third Rail? Even the thought that MacCready was just a really good actor made her unsettled. She was persuasive, and she could lie in a pickle if she needed to, like with the Nelson, but she had trusted MacCready with her real story, and she would never lie to him if she could help it, so the thought he could do it so seamlessly and smoothly just for a few caps made her unnerved.

Finally, she passed by Piper's newsstand, picking up a copy of _Publick Occurrences_ from Nat to read on the road, before she passed by the barber, Kathy calling her over to _finally get a haircut or something!_

Art paused in her route to return to Mac, who seemed to be preoccupied with a bowl of noodles, and decided that she _had_ always wanted to see what blonde would look like on her…

Fifteen minutes and thirty caps later, Artemis had herself a new haircut and color. She gladly took the mirror Kathy handed to her once her son was done, and Art almost cringed at what she saw in the mirror.

She liked the ponytail that John had put her unruly mop of hair in, but her hair color was… much brighter than she thought it would be. It was bleached, obviously, but it almost looked white, not quite as blonde as she was expecting, and Art wasn't sure if she liked her previous idea so much anymore.

She forked over the caps then slowly made her way over to where MacCready still had his face shoved into a bowl of soup. Once she sat down beside him, he finally turned to look at her. After doing a double take at her hair, he spit out the noodles he was chewing and almost choked. Her hopeful smile quickly disappeared. That was not the reaction she was expecting.

"What the _hell_ did you do to your hair?" He took the end of her ponytail, running his hands through it before tugging on it gently, making Art cry out an 'ow'. "I mean the ponytail is fine, but the _color… why?"_ He didn't sound happy at all when referring to her color.

She frowned, certain that this was the color she saw the woman in Goodneighbor had.

"I just thought I needed to change things up," she shrugged and started playing with her ponytail, too, twirling it around one of her fingers.

"How much did you pay for… this?" he gestured to the general area of her head.

She hesitated, "…Thirty caps."

" _Thirty caps?_ Are you…" Mac took a deep breath, before splaying his hands over the surface of the counter, "No, no, no. You already heard this spiel before, which also means you should know better than to spend caps on something like… _that."_ He stood up from his seat, "Thirty is a lot and you know it, when your kid is on the line. I'm getting my room for the night."

He left Art in a huff who was still sitting stiffly in her seat, surprised by his reaction, being an understatement. She just thought… But then…

All she could do was play with the fingers in her lap and pray that no one would notice the tears running unchecked down her face. She was so _stupid, stupid, stupid!_

It was obviously not supposed to be her week – or month, really.

 **A/N:** _Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for the follows, favs, and the reviews! I'm so happy to hear from you guys and the you guys are enjoying this story! :)_


	9. Chapter 9

Life with Nate had been too easy. Love with Nate had come almost too easily, too. He was her first and only love, no matter how cheesy that sounded, and she had not known anything other than his easy smile. They had been high school sweethearts ever since he had asked her to their first dance. They had spent all their time together, finding spare halls between classes to duck into and spending their weekends either doing homework or playing pranks on each other.

They had gone to the same community college, finding career paths in mundane jobs, before settling down in the quaint little neighbourhood of Sanctuary, far enough away to start their own lives but still close enough to their families so that they could visit every odd weekend or so.

They were married two years after they graduated, keeping their vow to finish their educations and find jobs they both enjoyed before settling down with each other for good. Nate had always been there for her, supporting her when she needed it and always making sure to buy her favorite cupcakes when her period eventually rolled around. They had their fights, like any couple would, but made sure to stay up until they at least called a truce for the night before taking it up the next day, if it was even necessary.

Nate had made her believe that there was good in the world, that there was always good to look forward to, that with him at her side she could do anything, be anyone. And she would never forget his smile when she told him she was pregnant; it was engrained in her brain, that wonderful smile.

He had made her, however inadvertent, naïve as well. She was naïve to the world, to the problems people faced every day. He never told her of their financial problems, even though she eventually found out when he would stay late into the night at work and the all their mail suddenly went missing. The claims scared her, the final notices even more. But then he would always give her that winning smile, the one that would make her think everything would be okay, and she always believed him.

Walking the Commonwealth's radiation-filled wasteland made her wish that she had more balls back then. That she would question her life a little more, be a little less naïve, work a little harder than pursuing a stupid marketing career - to maybe be a little more prepared for the one day that would lead her to her new life.

Then, little Shaun was born, and somehow she loved her baby even more than her husband. Every single day she dotted over him, taking maternity leave for that first year with her son while Nate worked his butt off to give his wife and son the best. He was weary, every day he came home, and no matter how much Art tried to help him, to push him to take a break, he would always give her that smile and kiss her soundly, and tell her it would be okay.

And she believed him.

He was a stubborn butt, but that's something she loved about him. It wasn't a harsh stubbornness either – it was a stubbornness to give his family the best, to leave them ignorant to the problems that broken families faced every day. He had loved her and Shaun unconditionally, and she had returned it with her.

And no matter how much she wished he was here right now, telling her it would be okay, she knew it wouldn't help.

Here she was, smelling like shit from not taking a bath in a week with all the water around being radiated, the sun beating down on her now-blonde head relentlessly, and her ears hurting from the loudness of her Pip-Boy's radio. The music beat the sound of her companion's heavy footsteps behind her, though.

Even in this horrible eradiated world, she tried to kid herself every single day that everything was going to be okay, that there could be good in everyone, and that everyone could eventually find their own happy endings. (She figured it was too late for hers now.) That she could be naïve and think that in the next ghost town she would find her son and that he would be waiting for her, unharmed, and she could raise him like she was supposed to two hundred years ago.

Two months and she still hadn't learned. She liked to blame it on MacCready, his help and support feeding her blatant optimism in the face of her certain danger, but the weeks since leaving Diamond City had made her see the truth behind it all. It would take hard work, harder than she had already dealt with, harder than killing a drug dealer for money, to get Shaun back. Her cushy life of twenty-seven years was not going to cut it, no matter how many friends she made along the way.

He was probably dead, but she allowed herself at least that little sliver of hope that he was still alive.

But it seemed even MacCready had given up on her, and she still wasn't sure why. His burst of anger seemed to linger in the air between them, the Diamond City Radio filling most of the empty space between as they walked farther and farther from Boston proper during the day and slept in dingy sleeping bags for the night – their only comfortable silence.

Was he really so upset about thirty fucking caps? Sure, it was a fair amount, but she didn't understand why he still held a grudge over it. It made her confused and angry. Life with MacCready was anything but easy, but in all honesty, she appreciated his edge. He had the stubbornness Nate never had – the hard, cold truth. And she appreciated it – she _needed_ it if she wanted to make it in this world. It helped her learn about herself – she was more than the housewife to Nate, she was a smooth talker, she was independent, and with a little push, she had finally learned the value of a cap, unclouded by her husband's smooth smile.

She also liked Mac's smile, the one with the tired edges that he cracked once in a while. And she liked how, no matter how much her decisions sometimes made him cringe, the last call was always her.

She figured it was because he was the hired help, but she couldn't help but feel empowered by it, like he was really concerned about her opinion on their situation. And she liked being totally in control of her life.

It didn't mean she wasn't upset about Mac's silence. This wasn't the heated, excited guy that loved to crack a joke that she knew, that yelled at her for being naïve but only because at the end of the day, she figured he cared about her. And she was guiltily glad that he still kept his pace behind her, so she wouldn't have to look at his cold face all the time.

She wasn't sure what hurt more – his petty anger over the small amount of caps, or that maybe he didn't care at all. He was waiting to be done with the Gunners, dealing with her in the meantime, and then he would be gone. He wouldn't be here forever, like the anchor Nate was, but in all honesty it just made her work harder these past few weeks. That if she shot a little straighter, persuaded a little smoother, it would convince him to stay with her in the long run. They would make a hell of a team – she could do the talking because goodness knows MacCready could make a Brahim flinch, and he could do the walking (with her at his side).

She hated the blonde now covering her head, she really did, and she missed her own fiery locks. She mourned its loss the night Mac told her off, wandering the empty City streets while twirling it through her fingers, hating how it looked almost as pale as her skin in the moonlight. She felt that in her split decision, she lost a part of herself.

She reminded herself that, just maybe, she had found a new part of herself in the process.

Art had even considered going back to John and asking if he could return her old color, but she decided it wouldn't help Mac's mood if she spent another thirty caps just to get her old self back.

 _Lay that pistol down…_

She hummed along to the song, her step a little lighter as she did so. Although she wanted desperately to toughen up, to become a true wanderer in the Commonwealth, she couldn't help the need to help others. The need to show others all wasn't lost, that there could still be hope.

And in a little place in her heart, she couldn't lie that maybe her sense of positivity wasn't all due to Nate, and maybe it wasn't all due to Mac's support, but that she herself held a little bit of light – a light that had influenced Nate to work so hard, to give them the best life they could, to tell her everything was going to be okay because he really believed it, and he didn't want her light to die just because of some stupid bills.

It hadn't all been bad. She had found a quick friend in Magnolia, an ally in fighting the good fight with Preston, and her ever-loyal Dogmeat. Even Codsworth had survived the radiation storms from the nuclear blasts, still willing to stand by her side if she ever needed him.

And they were all waiting for her in Sanctuary. At her _home._

Maybe, when this was all over and Shaun was back safely in her arms, she could call MacCready a friend, too.

And maybe it _was_ going to be all okay. She imagined Nate smiling at her one more time, watching a radiation storm beginning to role in through the abandoned town her and MacCready were passing through, before hearing her companion yell at her to turn the damn radio down and find someplace steady for them to wait the storm out in.

 **A/N:** _Oooh, I kind of wanted to make this chapter a little longer, but I kind of like it as is. Next we'll return to Mac, and thank you again for all the new follows, favs, and review! SO awesome to see so many people liking this :) Thank you for all the kind reviews, and to answer your question Guest, I'm not sure how old the SS in canon is in game, but I imagine Art late 20's, still very optimistic but trying to get her priorities straight (especially in her new home)_


	10. Chapter 10

MacCready found himself in a constant state of being pissed off, and he had no idea why – no, that wasn't right. He knew why. _Blonde hair._ That's why. But he just couldn't understand why he was so vehemently angry with Art about it. She could do whatever the hell she wanted, it wasn't like he had a say in it.

But when he looked up from his feet to Art's head, blonde locks bouncing left and right with her movements while she danced to the song on the radio, he couldn't help the stupid feeling from rising in his gut and making him scowl.

He missed the red, and something had obviously crawled its way into his stomach to make him angry 24/7. He was surprised Art hadn't called him out on it yet, and he was actually disappointed that she had withdrawn so much after his outburst. If she didn't hate him before from all his nagging, she most certainly would hate him now. Didn't women hate it when you criticized how they looked? Whatever. He still missed the red.

Maybe she actually enjoyed his newfound quiet, and he chuckled to himself thinking about it. Even he wouldn't mind a break from all his nagging and worrying and complaining – he probably sounded like a grumpy grandma or something.

He looked back up at Art and frowned. The blonde was still there. He sighed – it was tiring being pissed off for weeks on end. He wished he could explain to her why he was so angry, or what was going on, but he honestly didn't really know himself, and if his thoughts were going the direction he thought they were… yeah, he didn't even want to admit to himself at that point.

And she didn't seem to mind, so who was he to break the quiet between them?

The road was quiet except for the sound of Art's Pip-Boy playing the radio, and her humming, although he could barely hear it since she started playing the radio so damn loud; another headache was starting to form quickly, and instead of barking at her again (which he was _certain_ would either piss her off or make her cry) he decided to step back a few paces.

He had seen her cry enough, and knew for a fact the night before they left Diamond City, she had cried herself to sleep in her own room. Damn the thin walls. He had felt like a piece of shit afterwards, and was definitely not in the mood to talk. He never wanted to make her cry again.

He let his thoughts take over, lazily scanning the area around them in case something – or someone – wanted to have an early death.

Then he thought of Hancock. _Goddammi-_ why did he have to think of Hancock? Even his stupid name made him want to throw up. Now he couldn't get the ghoul's face out of his head – the way his dark eyes would light up at the sight of Art, the way he was always trying to touch her any way he could when she was near. If he remembered correctly – which he should, he couldn't get the scene out of his head – he had even offered her a fresh needle to take some chems.

Now, MacCready wasn't a junkie, but he knew the significance of a fresh needle for a drug-induced ghoul. Hancock was making a move.

His teeth grinded together and his finger reflexively tightened around the trigger of his shotgun. Thank god it was on safety – he would definitely be on his back from the close impact of his shot, and he didn't know how he'd explain that one.

He let out a sigh. He needed to relax, but they had run out of alcohol two nights ago. He had been sloshing the stuff like crazy, drinking as much as he could before bed so that he could sleep without blonde hair and Art crying flooding his brain. The night he had run out, trying not to curse and searching the deep recesses of his bag, Art had quietly walked up to his side and placed her own store of alcohol (mostly for wounds – she decided she didn't like drinking all that much) beside him. She walked back around the fire without a word, and he felt even worse after that.

He had finished all the alcohol three days after that, and now he was sober and pissed and the stupid image of Hancock smiling while caressing Art's cheek made its way into his mind.

Guilt and anger and confusion were not a usual mix MacCready was used to, but if he was being honest, he wasn't all that surprised that's what he had resorted to. If only to save his dignity for the time being.

…He really did miss Art's horrible singing.

 **-oooooo-**

Out of _all_ the settlements he had shown her they could stop by to get some extra caps from, _why_ did she have to choose Covenant? Wait – why did he even show her Covenant in the first place? As they neared the small, isolated settlement, he remembered his stupid reasoning. Right, the people were creepy, but they were clean, and most certainly had plenty of caps and chems to steal – they had their own doctor for crying out loud!

So, MacCready swallowed his protest and followed Art as she had made her way towards Covenant's iron gates. She briefly turned to look at him, the first time that day, and her eyebrow was cocked up, as if she was surprised that he didn't make some sarcastic remark about the place – it clearly screamed _beware, it's a trap!_ Not that she would listen to him anyway. He threw her his own incredulous look, and she actually smirked a little – it made his stomach burn.

But then he saw the blonde, and he thought of Hancock, and he unconsciously frowned. She turned back around quickly after that, shoulders slumping. He was such a jerk, he really should just apologize. A lump formed in his throat, and continued after Art as she began talking to the guy standing guard outside of Covenant's gates.

She shook the man's hand, "Name's Swanson, I'm assuming you want to get into Covenant?" His voice was old and raspy, just as MacCready had remembered.

"Artemis. Yes, that's the plan," she had a smile on her face, but MacCready could tell it was forced. The man nodded, and then turned his eyes to him. Mac shook his hand briefly.

"I remember you. Robert MacCready, right?" Mac cringed at his full name, but nodded his answer, "You're all set to head in, but you young lady, need to do the SAFE test before you can come in."

"…Safe test?"

The man nodded, already heading to his desk with Art having no choice but to follow behind, "Yes, just a quick test to keep out any… 'undesirables' that might be trying to get into our little community." He sat down at his chair and motioned for Art to take the one across from him.

Yes, _now_ MacCready remembered - these people were absolutely crazy.

MacCready leaned his shoulder against the side of the hut the man called his own, and Art looked at him, obviously thinking the same thing as him, and he just shrugged his shoulders. The test wasn't that bad, unless they decided to step it up a notch since he was here last time.

Art took her seat, and after answering Swanson's questions in the mediocre way MacCready assumed she would – _world peace_ and _save the children_ and all that – he opened up Covenant's gate, saying they were welcome in and out of it whenever they so pleased.

Art took in the quaint little settlement around her, grey eyes uneasy and a little uncomfortable.

"It looks… almost pre-war," she whispered, and MacCready leaned in a bit to hear her better, glad that she wasn't moving away from him like he assumed she would, "That can't be right, can it?"

"These people might be a little on the insane side, but they're clean – either with plenty of jobs or with plenty of caps just lying around," he looked at her face closely, leaning in a little more. Probably too close for comfort, but he couldn't resist.

Her face scrunched up, "Don't say that, they're probably very nice."

He snorted, and this time when she looked at him it was with distaste, and as if just realizing how close they had gotten, moved away quickly, face returning to that neutral expression she had worn all the way on the road here. He sighed.

Yeah, he had messed up bad.

 **-oooooo-**

After taking an once-over of Covenant and talking with the majority of the settlers, who refused to look them in the eyes and avoided their questions with fake smiles intact, Art decided it would be a good idea to take a job from the only person in the whole complex that was actually looking for help - unfortunately, it wasn't from anybody _from_ Covenant.

Honest Dan. He was a merc, obviously, and also obviously not a member of Covenant. In fact, he was _investigating_ the good people of Covenant over a caravan disappearance – which happened to include a missing daughter. MacCready smelled danger and 'please don't do this' all over this case.

Sure, he didn't like the people of Covenant all that much, they gave him the creeps, but it didn't mean he was going to start messing with them. With those vacant looks in their eyes, they would probably kill him and Art without batting an eye. He was willing to take a job, but not this one. Too much danger and Art would be dead and she wouldn't be finding her son anytime soon. Nuh–uh, no thank you.

"Sure!" was Art's immediate reply, and MacCready deflated. There was no talking her out of this, and his previous anger returned. Was she really such an idiot? He tried taking a calming breath, but once Dan explained the details to them, and Art started asking around about missing caravans, MacCready decided to take a breather and sit against the side of one of the immaculate houses.

After getting nowhere with asking people about what they knew, Art sat down beside him, drinking one of the lemonades the Mr. Handy was passing out. She offered him one, and he shook his head no.

"Are you alright?" she asked, eyes guarded, used to this kind of behavior from him already but asking anyway. His stomach hurt, knowing that her opinion of him had dropped to the bottom of the bottom so quickly – but he couldn't blame her.

He knew his temper would get the best of him if he went off about her Good Samaritan behaviour, and he wasn't looking for a fight, so he just shrugged his shoulders, not looking at her. He was just so _tired._ No woman had made him this confused, not even Lucy, and it was making him even pissier than usual.

"…Fine," she sighed, defeated, and got up again, "Just stay here, I'll figure this out myself," her tone was challenging, hoping for any kind of reaction from him but stiff coldness, but he didn't take the bait, and watched as she stomped off to figure out the big mystery behind Covenant.

When she finally returned to his side, probably an hour or so later at the most, Dan was following her, late afternoon hanging in the air. He cocked his eyebrow when he saw her approach – determination radiated from her core. He wasn't sure it was necessarily good, though.

"C'mon, we're going." Right, she was still the boss, after all.

"Where we heading, boss?" He asked, waking himself up from the stupor he was in – a little while longer and he was certain he would take a catnap right up against the house he was sitting at.

"I could tell you the full story, but here's the just of it - there's a fishing spot east of here that belongs to Covenant. It's also where Amelia is, hopefully. Dan helped me check out the caravan, and that's all we got so far. So, are you coming?" She whispered, excited and nervous, and MacCready gave her a, at this point, _signature_ scowl.

His blood boiled knowing that she had left Covenant without his help, Dan being an easy replacement, and he got to his feet quickly, "Pft, 'am I coming'? Of course I am. Lead us to this weird fishing hole with weird fish, please." Dan eyed him oddly, and even Art looked a little concerned over his reaction, but he didn't pay them any mind, and simply waited for her to start leading them to their new destination.

She was a naïve one, but he wasn't about to let her leave town to a 'fishing hole' with a guy named Honest Dan by herself.

When they left Covenant's boundaries, MacCready drew his shotgun, scanning the perimeter as usual, watching Dan and Art quietly talk to each other in front of him. And not-so-subtlety, not that either of them would notice, he cocked his gun in Dan's direction.

You know, just in case.

 **-oooooo-**

The fishing hole was no more than a sewage pipe filled with mutated fish, and, of course, more crazy people. Luckily, the lacky's in the cave obviously didn't know the right end of a pistol, and they found a weird laboratory at the end of the old sewer, crazy doctor and missing daughter all intact. It was like those old, pre-war science fiction books Mac would read on the road sometimes.

"Let her go! She hasn't done anything; look, she's in horrible pain, do you _really_ think she's a synth?" Art cried, distraught over the state they had found Amelia in, and MacCready prayed that her famed charisma would come into help now. Just look at the poor girl – he imagined Duncan in the same scenario, mistaken for a synth, and shuddered. The doctor's gaze was cool and clinical, not a slice of empathy in her body, as she replied with a resounding no.

And then, she offered them caps to keep this all on the down-low.

 _Hm,_ MacCready had to give it to this crazy lady, she did have a point – and that point was more caps than Dan could ever imagine to offer them. She was experimenting on some poor girl that may or may not be a synth, but if Art was smart about this, she would take the old bird's caps and then make a run for it with the girl in tow, MacCready would make sure of it.

As the old scientist made her very tempting offer, Mac turned to get a look at Dan – he hadn't spoken much to their excursion to the fishing hole, nor through the sewers leading to this crazy laboratory, and his face was a stone now. Mac may have not liked the scientist, but he wasn't fond of Dan either. He just hoped that they could get the caps and the girl and be done with this stupid plan.

"No, I'll never take your caps if you'll just harm this girl more!" Art cried.

MacCready snorted, not out of amusement, but incredulity, "Should've taken that offer boss, would've been a nice payout."

Art turned to him, eyes cold and angry and he had never seen her look so hurt in his entire life. What the fu- frick?

" _Not. Now_." She hissed, turning back to the scientist before her. She merely shrugged.

"Fine, don't take my offer, then," and simply… walked off and started playing with one of the control panels.

Art was stunned into silence for a moment, certain the woman would have pulled out a hidden gun or something at her refusal, but didn't question it for too long before running towards the control panel that opened up the cell doors, freeing the poor girl, whom Dan took into his arms almost immediately.

They left the facility without another word from the doctor, and MacCready had a sick feeling in his gut they hadn't got off as scot-free as they would have liked – with them being crazy and all, she probably had something up her sleeve to make sure they would pay for blowing open Covenant's operation. The four of them made it through the sewer once again, making sure the poor girl didn't trip and break an ankle or something, and Art pulled away from Dan to talk to a trailing MacCready. And she was not happy.

The anger from before was gone, but she was hurt, weeks of tension lying between wearing her patience and temper thin. She was tired, her eyes told him everything, and he wasn't looking towards this particular confrontation.

"Why do you have to be like that?" she asked, hurt and raw, and he refused to look at her face, even though she was staring at his.

"What're you talking about now?" he tried to make it sound like a mock complaint, but it came out irritated.

"Were you _really_ so worried about caps when poor Amelia was in danger? Really? We're still on the road, still plenty of opportunities to earn some more!" She cried out softly.

"Don't you get it? You could've taken her money and then saved the girl! Kill two birds with one stone! We would be _so much_ closer to saving Shaun if you took her money, hell, we could've skipped Sanctuary and take a shorter trip back to the Diamond. Are you _really_ that unconcerned over time?" He was so angry, the pissed off feeling coming back full force, weeks and weeks of it bubbling up. _Who was she to judge him?_

"And take that kind of risk?" her eyes bore into him, and he finally looked up at her face. She was crying, her eyes strained and old, that grey maelstrom he never wanted pointed in his direction in clear view, " _No thank you."_

"Okay, fine, I get it, _I'm_ the stupid one here. Thank you! Got it," he replied, snarky as ever and done with the conversation, and she flinched as if he had hit her.

She turned from him, the blonde glaring in the red working lights that lit up the sewer. He hated the blonde.

"I – I thought it was always more than just the caps for you. That you had a heart. I guess I was _wrong,"_ it wasn't a strong comeback, her voice soft, but it was a punch in the gut all the same.

Because it never really was about the caps. It was about Duncan. And it hurt for her to say it. The guilt bubbled up again.

They parted ways with Dan and Amelia once they fished themselves out of the fishing hole ( _sewer_ ), and Art murmured over her shoulder to him that they were going back to Covenant for supplies, and to sleep for the night.

Then the radio was turned up on full blast again, and Art was ignoring his presence. And then he thought of blonde, and Hancock, and the anger wasn't leaving, and he let himself stew in his own loathing.

 **-oooooo-**

A massacre surrounded them. MacCready knew they were crazy, but this? An ambush? He knew that the scientist they left in the sewer let them go too easily, and now the entire town of Covenant lay dead and his feet. He was surprised they survived, and was thankful Art hacked the turrets to work in their favor.

Blood surrounded him – too much for his liking, and he shuddered.

The barrel of his shotgun was still hot, and he quietly reloaded, taking in all that had happened when Covenant had appeared over the horizon. The whole settlement had stormed at them, the gates flying open the moment they came into sight, shooting at them with crazed fervor.

He shivered once more, the shock slowly leaving his body and the realization of the massacre they had committed becoming all too clear. He knew it wasn't their fault, not really, but it was a shock, and he knew Art would be blaming herself for, well, ever. That is – if she could stomach what had happened.

He turned to look at Art, sitting against the concrete wall of Covenant, her face in her hands, stuck between her raised knees. Her breaths were coming raggedly, he saw, and he slowly made his way over to her. His heart ached, heavy and torn, as he saw her broken.

He wouldn't be surprised if she went crazy after this. He wouldn't blame her either.

He tried touching her shoulder, to wake her from her stupor, but she gently pushed his hand away and got to her feet. On her face was a crazed smile, her eyes empty and dark and he wanted to shake her and say it wasn't her fault, she had saved the poor girl from harm, but she had already turned around, walking woozily in the general direction of Sanctuary.

She mumbled to herself, and he wished he could hear what she was saying, but he stayed behind, worried that his face at the moment wouldn't be the most comforting thing to see for her.

And he, as always, followed.

 **A/N:** _Thank you for all the continued support!_


	11. Chapter 11

Art took a deep breath, her body relaxing with the exhale as she saw Sanctuary come into view from the distance. Finally! It had been too long since she had visited home, and leaving MacCready behind her, she jogged into town, looking for a sign of anybody to hug – preferably Dogmeat, but anybody would do.

Leaving MacCready in the dust, she spotted Preston first and ran up to him in a giant bear hug, holding him close. Ever since Covenant, she hadn't spoken to MacCready, and the lack of human contact was taking a toll on her. But she knew she could always count on Preston, and the moment he asked her how she doing (the miserable look on her face hiding none of her sorrow), she broke down once again and cried.

Ever since arriving in this horrible post-apocalyptic wasteland, her and Preston had been working together to bring peace to the Commonwealth's settlements once again, making sure Sanctuary was open to everyone and anyone on the road. They had become close friends, fighting the good fight, but Preston had elected to stay behind while she started looking for her son – making sure everything was up and ready for when he was back home, he had told her.

She told him everything, her voice muffled from being stuffed into his chest - from killing Marowski to murdering the whole town of Covenant. Her filter was off, not caring if anyone nearby heard her, she just needed to _say_ it. Maybe she hoped that saying it all out loud would ease the tightness in her heart, or make it all not real. She heard MacCready approach from the distance, and his sigh of what she could only assume was annoyance.

She looked up at Preston's face, his hand smoothing her back as he stared at the newcomer behind her. Art turned enough to see MacCready standing behind her, arms crossed and his usual scowl clouding his face.

"You're free to go… hang out or whatever," she growled, rather pathetically, and he stared at her a minute before awkwardly giving Preston a small nod of recognition and walking down Sanctuary's boulevard, looking for someplace safe to smoke where she wouldn't chastise him for it. She hated it when he smoked.

She turned back to Preston, his eyes soft, and she felt better already. She had needed to tell someone, and she was glad Preston was always there with an open ear.

"I haven't talked to anyone in three days, so, yeah, thanks for that," she huffed, letting him go to rub her already sore eyes.

He smirked at her, "What about your new friend?"

"Who?" she asked coquettishly, but seeing Preston's determined stare, she deflated, "Right. Him. We're not on talking terms right now, so…"

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking over in MacCready's direction. He was hanging out at the far side of Sanctuary, halfway across the old stone bridge, smoking leisurely.

"Never thought I'd see old MacCready walk into Sanctuary willingly, without at least three armed men following him," he replied, amusement coloring his tone.

Art stared at him with wide eyes, "You _know_ each other?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Here and there. When the Minutemen were still at large, who do you think their biggest enemies were? The Gunners. We all ran into each other at least once, it just so happened that me and him ran into each other a few times."

Art looked down at her feet, suddenly sheepish, "Oh, right. But… you're not upset he's here, or anything?" Preston was a vet of the Wasteland – if there was anyone she trusted the most, it would be him and his judgement.

"Nope. Heard about what happened to him through the grapevine, and I hate to admit it, but somewhere deep in my gut I have to give him his credit. Besides, how bad can he be if you decided to pick him up?" He nudged her shoulder with his own, getting a small smile from her, "Welcome home, boss."

She wrinkled her nose. She hated it when he called her that, and he laughed before taking up his post around Sanctuary's perimeter once more, promising to speak to her more about her troubles if she needed once evening rolled around.

She sighed, taking a deep breath of eradiated air and enjoying the crisp afternoon. She almost forgot about everything weighing down her heart – the slaughter, the stealing, Mac…

She turned once more to look at him and saw nothing but his back, the shotgun slung over his shoulder while he leaned against the stone bridge's far side. He almost looked relaxed, and she hated him for it. But she wouldn't ruin her own mood by looking at him, so she slunk off into her own home, saying hi to Codsworth on the way, and sitting herself down in the room where Nate's crib still sat.

She sat for a while, and promised herself that he would be back in that crib one day soon.

 **-oooooo-**

She woke up with a start, a quiet snort escaping her with the feeling of sudden wakefulness, not realizing she had dozed off. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, orientating herself in Shaun's old room and hearing the soft snoring from the bunks across the hall. Maybe it was Preston, or perhaps Sturges? It definitely wasn't Mac – he snored like a bulldozer, whether he liked to admit it or not.

At least it always made watch easier for Art – she could never fall asleep with him making so much noise. But now the absence of his snoring made her worried. She had built most of the beds for Sanctuary residents in her old home, for safety's sake, and if he wasn't sleeping…

She reluctantly got to her feet, fatigue and the need for more sleep making her movements sluggish. She snuck quietly through the house so she wouldn't wake anyone, and went out to find the moon full and high in the sky. She hadn't slept this long in _ages,_ and her body was confused for shit.

He was still standing on Sanctuary's bridge, the moonlight throwing his silhouette in stark relief. He was holding something up to his face, and it looked like he was speaking into it. She lazily began walking over to him – the man had no sense, she was certain, and if they were going to go to his _precious_ Turnpike anytime soon then he needed to sleep. Her cheeks burned slightly – she was still mad at him, she reassured herself.

She thought of Covenant and shuddered.

Once close enough to hear him, she slowed her steps.

"…I'm really sorry that I'm not there right now – Ah, shoot," he muttered, erasing what he had spoken into the holodisk and rewinding the tape.

What? Was he recording a message for someone? Perhaps to this Lucy he had spoken to Vadim about before.

"Hey Duncan, it's me. You remember me, right?" He began again, chuckling awkwardly, "I know I haven't been able to visit you lately, but you still have a piece of your heart reserved for your old man, right?"

Art's blood froze, her ears pounding immediately. It felt like she couldn't move her muscles.

MacCready had a son. He had a son, and had been giving her shit for trying so hard to get her own child back, when he obviously didn't have the time to take care of his own.

Her gut bubbled in anger and embarrassment, and she felt the hot tears running down her face absently, unable to stop them and not wanting to.

 _How dare he!_ She wanted to hit him and curl up in bed and cry forever and her head was spinning.

" _You son of a bitch!"_ She cried out, her voice hoarse and tight and thin, and Mac turned around with his eyes wide to see her standing behind him, eyes hurt and knuckles clenched as she stared at him.

Before he could respond, placate her, she was on him, finger poking him in the chest until it hurt, yelling at him, "All this time, you've given me nothing but shit, tortured me, made me feel like the worst mom in the world, when you have a _son!_ And where are _you?_ Taking care of him?" she hissed, vehement.

Mac opened his mouth to reply, but instead his jaw hung open, watching the tears flow freely down her face, her cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. She slapped him in the face for good measure. His face stung at the contact, and he felt anger well up.

She didn't even know about Duncan, or his condition, or how hard he was working to take care of him! He felt the tang of his hypocritical words, but he pretending it was the blood that stung his tongue.

He rubbed his cheek and watched as Art ran away from him, away from Sanctuary and up the hill nestling the town. _Oh no,_ she wasn't getting out of this one that easily, and he started his sprint after her.

 **-oooooo-**

He caught her just as the Vault was going down into the ground once more, hopping onto the lift and staring at her, breathing heavy and stilted. She didn't look at him, avoiding his gaze, and he took the moment to get his breath again.

Somewhere along the line her anger had turned to a wallowing sadness, he noticed, her sniffling constant, but he still felt the slap on his face, and she was going to understand that he was roaming the country to make sure his son stayed alive – not to learn if he was already dead or not.

The lift reached the bottom of the Vault, and Art broke into another sprint down its many hallways. MacCready almost cursed under his breath, taking off after her, his chest aching at all of the sudden exertion.

He checked each room, making sure she didn't try to pull a move on him and leave the Vault with him still trapped inside, when he found her in one of the rooms filled with cryogenic chambers. This was probably where she slept for two hundred years.

She was in the middle of the hallway, knees pulled up to her chest and face buried in her hands, crying and crying and crying, almost hysterical. He approached her slowly now, hearing a holotape of a man talking from Art's Pip-Boy, before noticing the chamber she was positioned before.

"Nate," she whimpered, "Help meeee."

He fell onto his knees beside her, staring up at the body of a man shot and frozen in stasis.

 **A/N:** _First of all, thank you all sooooo much for all of the favs and follows! Second, thank you for the review CaitSithRikku, I'm so happy you're enjoying the story :) Third, sorry for the long wait and sorry this chapter is somewhat shorter, but I wanted to put something out there for you guys to read! I didn't get the chance to read it over, so if you see any mistakes (or no mistakes!) please let me know, and also let me know how you liked this chapter. THANKS GUYS!_


End file.
